


The Corrupt and the Wicked II: Forever Evil

by Xazien



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 08:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11527980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xazien/pseuds/Xazien
Summary: Gadreel Mahariel. The Hero of Ferelden, slayer of the Archdemon and former Commander of the Grey. Now lost to the world and presumed dead by all.Mercuria Adaar. The Herald of Andraste, vanquisher of Corypheus and leader of the Inquisition. Now an overworked bureaucrat desperately holding together a corrupt, stagnated movement stricken with all the problems it was created to avoid.When an expedition to the Frostback Mountains thrust the two legends together, it seems to be the team-up the world was waiting for. But time and circumstance can change even the greatest of heroes, and it soon becomes clear that one of the world's greatest idols has descended into a darkness that could threaten all life on Thedas





	1. Helpless

Rynda raced through the keep, blocking out the screams of her friends and loved ones as she clutched her baby to her chest as tight as she could.  
All around her was burning.  
Everything was burning.  
There was a hideous, stomach-turning creaking sound as a huge pine tree, the centrepiece of their community, succumbed to the flames that tore into it and collapse, shaking the ground as it toppled and struck the earth with a mighty crash. The impact spat up dust, enveloping Rynda who coughed and spluttered and held her baby even tighter as she stumbled blindly through the dust clouds. She collapsed to the ground, hacking and wheezing and gasping for air as she emerged from the other side.  
Straight into the path of a snarling, crooked-toothed man in leather armour, a bloodstained sword held tightly in his hand.  
Rynda screamed as her attack stabbed down at her, only just managing to scramble back in time to avoid the blade. She was screaming, her baby was crying, the whole world was collapsing around them as the man, smiling a sickening smile, strode towards her. He grinned with malice, raising his sword above his head, and just before he could strike down and take Rynda’s head a second blade burst from his own chest. His blood was splattered across his would-be victims as the life left him, his face frozen with a shocked, almost insulted expression.  
“Rynda!”  
Rynda scrambled to her feet as Hoth withdrew his blade from the attacker’s chest and let his body slump to the ground, running into her saviours arms and sobbing as he held her. The embrace was brief, however: a mere second later Hoth was gripping her shoulders and looking her sternly in the eye.  
“They betrayed us,” Hoth hissed. “They lied to us, and now they’re going to kill every last one of us. All for that damned tome.” A wave of gentleness overcame his expression as he looked down at the baby still held tightly in Rynda’s arms, and he stroked her soft little cheeks with a single calloused finger. “Take Lyssa and run,” Hoth urged Rynda. “Keep her safe. I’ll try and rally the others and hold them off while you get away. Go to my house, there’s a secret passage into the mountains below my bed.”  
“I won’t leave you!” Rynda sobbed. “They can’t do this! They’re supposed... they’re supposed to be...”  
“They’re nothing of the sort,” Hoth urged. “Now go, Rynda! Run!”  
Clutching Lyssa to her chest Rynda ran for Hoth’s house over the blood-soaked and soot-stained grounds of the keep, not looking back. Not even when she heard a whistle, like an arrow soaring through the air, and a scream of pain from Hoth as it struck him.  
Rynda barged through the unlocked door of Hoth’s house, heading straight for the bedroom door. She cursed as she struggled with the stiff handle, one arm still cradling Lyssa. Overcome with fear, frustration and fury she pounded at the door.  
And then gasped as an arrow struck the door right between her second and third fingers.  
Rynda spun as three men entered the room, two burly humans in silver and blue armour flanking a lithe elf in jet black leather armour. The elf wore no helmet; his face was clearly visible. His skin was tanned, his face marked with the black vallaslin of a Dalish elf, and his long silver hair billowed behind him. He held a beautiful heartwood bow in which was notched a single arrow, a sleek and deadly thing pointed straight at Rynda’s heart.  
Most haunting of all was the blood-splattered symbol on the man’s chest.  
The silver griffon of the Grey Wardens.  
“Why...” Rynda pleaded. “Why are you doing this? Who are you?”  
“Haven’t you heard?” Gadreel Mahariel said with a grin as he fired his arrow straight into Rynda’s heart. “I’m a hero.”


	2. The Lonely Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been months since the death of Corypheus, and with most of their companions and advisors having moved on to other things, Inquisitor Mercuria Adaar begins to question the purpose of The Inquisition's continued existence

Skyhold was a lonely place.

Mercuria Adaar couldn’t help but notice the quiet as she signed form after form with an inked quill, the absence of so many familiar faces creating a sense of unease and discomfort. It seemed like only yesterday that she and the others, her trusted companions and advisors, had struck down Corypheus and saved the world. The main reason for that, Mercuria theorised, was that absolutely nothing of note had happened since. Bureaucracy. Official meetings. Goodbyes.

With Corypheus and his armies destroyed, after all, there had been little reason for anyone to stay. They had moved on. Some had moved on to bigger things, with Dorian taking an ambassadorial role in Tevinter, Varric summoned to Kirkwall for some appointment of great political importance and Leliana finally taking the Sunburst Throne as Divine Victoria. Some had settled back into their old roles, with Vivienne returning to the Imperial Court, Cassandra resuming her post as Right Hand of the Divine and ‘Blackwall’ finally undertaking The Joining and becoming a Grey Warden. Others had just moved on, with Cole and Solas simply vanishing in the days after Corypheus’ destruction. With Cullen and Josephine constantly busy with new peacetime responsibilities and Iron Bull and his men always off on one expedition or another, Mercuria and Sera were alone in Skyhold. Not that they minded the alone time, of course. Only there were few places in the world more stark than a big, empty castle.

Perhaps it was time for The Inquisition to end. After all, what were they doing? Corypheus and his army were destroyed, The Haakonites were vanquished, the Deep Roads were settled and Thedas was stable again. All rifts sealed, all dragons slain, all enemies defeated. But Mercuria couldn’t bring herself to do it. She couldn’t bring herself to declare it, to sign the forms and make the announcements and order the dismantling of everything they had built. It would mean that everything they had built over the past year and a half would just... vanish. The most meaningful period in her entire life would be over.

“Scout Harding reporting, ma’am.”

Mercuria looked up from her parchment as Chief Scout Lace Harding stood in the open doorway of the office, saluting. The dwarf then strode over to Mercuria’s desk and placed a report down, just next to the stack of forms Mercuria had been begrudgingly working through. Grateful for the break, Mercuria scanned over the report with tired eyes that turned wider and wider as she carried on through.

“Interesting...” Mercuria said, feeling guilty as she revelled in the gory details of the scouting report. A whole settlement in the southern Frostbacks wiped off the map. Peaceful men, women and children slaughtered by an unknown force. It reminded her of the old days, when roving bands of demons and Venatori and Red Templars cut a bloody path through the land, and The Inquisition swooped in to save the day. “So the Chargers found no survivors? No trace of the attackers?”

“No, ma’am,” Scout Harding confirmed. “Bull says that whoever they were they left almost no trace. The only things we have to go off are the bodies of the slain villagers. Apparently the Charger’s weapons expert had a look and over half of them were killed by the same design of arrow, perhaps even fired from the same type of bow. They also found what looks to be incredibly minor signs of The Taint on a few bodies, though the amount is apparently negligible.”

An entire settlement of people wiped off the map with no trace of an attacker. Mystery signs of the darkspawn Taint. For a moment Mercuria’s heart stirred. She hadn’t been given something like this in a long time. A mystery. An enemy.

A purpose.

“Scout Harding...” Mercuria mused. “Have Sera and The Iron Bull meet me at the gates in half an hour. I need time to get kitted up.”

“Kitted up... Inquisitor, ma’am, you can’t mean to say you’re leaving Skyhold for... this?” Harding asked incredulously. “All respect, ma’am, you haven’t gone out into the field since Haven. You only went out in the first place to deal with rifts only you could seal. We have agents, we have soldiers. You have work to do, ma’am. The Inquisition cannot run itself.”

“Inform General Rutherford that he will be in command of The Inquisition,” Mercuria ordered, rising from her chair perhaps a little too quickly. “You have your orders, Scout Harding. Fulfil them.”

As Harding left the room, visibly disgruntled, Mercuria moved over to the large chest she kept by her desk. A chest that had gone so long without being opened a fine film of dust lay on top. Mercuria blew the dust off, smiling as it floated visibly through a ray of sunlight from the window behind her. Slowly, she lifted up the chest’s lid and grinned from horn to horn at what lay inside.

A long, runed mage’s staff.

Feeling the magic dancing around her fingertips, Inquisitor Adaar took the staff from the chest and gripped it tightly. It had been far too long.

 

***

 

Gadreel Mahariel lounged in his chair as Avernus poured over the pages of the tome, his eyes fixated as he absorbed the knowledge with greed. He’d better be enjoying it, Gadreel thought. He absent-mindedly recalled the number of innocents who had died for it while he sharpened the tips of his arrows.

Setting down his arrow and whetstone, Gadreel went to the window of Avernus’ laboratory and gazed at the horizon. Soldier’s Peak was far away, Vigil’s Keep further still. But Fort Blacklight would do for now. The work they were doing was vital, not just for the ultimate vanquishing of the darkspawn, but for proving them all wrong. The Wardens would see how wrong they were about him. He was a hero, and heroes saved the day.

Regardless of the consequences.


	3. The Archer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercuria and her Inquisition allies examine the site of a massacre while the perpetrator watches in the shadows

There were bodies strewn across what was left of the mountain settlement. Some armed and armoured, others civilians, a few little more than children. They had been burned, stabbed, crushed or beaten to death.

More than half, Harding had noted, had been shot.

“All the same unique make of arrow,” Scout Harding observed as she expected one of the fallen bodies, squinting at the long black arrow protruding from dead flesh. A perfect shot, right in the soft flesh at the back of the skull. The thick plate armour and heavy wooden shield this fallen warrior had equipped had been no match for this marksmanship their killer. “The same consistent quality of marksmanship too, always hitting the prime soft spots and unarmoured flesh. If it didn’t seem so impossible, I’d say that this was the work of one archer. Just one, backed up by a band of warriors for melee combat.”

“Nasty,” Sera grimaced, prodding a corpse with an arrow protruding from its eye. “Killing with arrows, I mean. Ok if it’s demons or bad folk or rich arses. But painful. Gotta be some prize arsehole to go all fancy killing with it. Probably some noble with a fancy bow and fancier arrows, thinks he’s all big.”

“The arrows are certainly top quality,” Iron Bull noted. “Good crafting on those. Probably a damn fine bow on top of it.”

“So we have a mystery archer who likes murder,” Mercuria sighed. “Well Sera’s here so that counts out our prime suspect.”

“Oi.”

“Any other leads?” Mercuria continued, exasperated, her arms itching to unsheathe her staff and just... do something. Anything. Just her luck to fine the only massacre in Thedas without a single haunting.

_What are you thinking?_ Mercuria chided herself. _These were people. Sentient beings. All murdered._

_There was a time you’d have felt something._

_Anything._

“Sera, go scout the paths around the settlement,” Mercuria said, trying to banish the thoughts from her head as her elven lover compared her own homemade, splinter-ridden arrows to the sleek black ones protruding from the dead.

“Sure thing!” Sera stood to attention and saluted so hard Mercuria could hear the slap of the elf’s hand against her own head.

Sera notched an arrow into her bow and marched off through the gates of the ruined settlement, before pausing and turning around. She then drew back her bowstring and fired, her arrow sailing across the settlement until it struck a corpse slumped against a wall right in the centre of its unseeing eye.

“Easy,” Sera declared triumphantly, before carrying on her way.

***

Sera hated mountains, and walking, and stupid posh arrows in dead people. She liked better things, like her arrows, and cities, and being in bed. Or being in bed with Mercuria. She LOVED that. Much better than ‘scouting’ stupid mountains with nothing in them except murder and fancy arrows.

Sera continued grumbling to herself as she hopped over a boulder and scrambled up a small cliff face, allowing herself a higher vantage point. Nothing to see. Nothing but Mercuria and the others down in the settlement, looking all small, like tiny little dwarves. Except Harding, who was already a dwarf. She looked like a smaller dwarf. And Mercuria and Iron Bull were both Qunari so they were really big, so they looked like taller dwarves. Or maybe little grey cows, with the horns and all. So not much like dwarves at all, really.

Having taken in the view, Sera continued half-heartedly looking around the pathway she had climbed to. A few rocks, dull and grey. No fun things to see or do or-

Sera dived out of the way as something sleek and black whistled through the air, striking the ground just where her left foot had been. Realising her mistake, Sera windmilled her arms as she stumbled too close to the edge of the path, desperately scrambling to prevent a fall to her death. Just as she felt herself tip over a firm, gloved hand grabbed her and yanked her to safety. The pull was rough, and she found herself thrown onto the stony ground where her saviour stood over her.

He was an elf, marked out by his long pointy ears and the intricate black vallaslin, the same colour as the jet-black leather armour he wore from shoulder to toe. He wore no helmet, showing off the long white hair that framed his tan-skinned face. His expression was cold. Deathly cold, the kind that sent chills down Sera’s spine. Just like the ornate heartwood bow that was held tightly in his hand, or the sleek black arrows in his quiver. The same as the ones protruding from the corpses down in the settlement, and the one which had struck the ground where Sera had stood not ten seconds ago.

“You!” Sera exclaimed with outrage. “It’s you what killed all those people! Posh arrow man!” She squinted for a second, examining the man’s features. “Don’t I know you?”

“Perhaps,” the elven man drawled, the patronisation in his voice practically dripping. “Or maybe I just have one of those faces.”

“Yeah?” Sera said. “Well maybe I’ll put an arrow through it!”

Sera leapt to her feet, screaming a battle cry, and charged straight towards her mystery attacker. He immediately flowed around the female elf, swiftly lashing out with a foot to trip her up. Sera hit the ground but rolled forward, springing upright and notching an arrow into her bow. She fired straight at the black-armoured elf but, just as the arrow was about to strike him in the eye, his hand snapped up and snatched the arrow from mid-air. He held Sera’s arrow between finger and thumb, the point a mere centimetre away from piercing his eyeball.

“An archer, just like myself,” the elf mused. “This should be fun.”

The black-armoured elf sprang to life, tossing aside Sera’s arrow and notching another in his bow all in one fluid movement. In less than a second he had fired and the sleek black arrow had pierced Sera’s calf, causing the female elf to howl in pain. The male elf then flipped backwards, his foot lashing upwards to catch Sera in the jaw and send her flying back as he spun through the air and landed in a perfect crouch. As Sera hit the ground she scrambled to grab an arrow from her quiver and notch it into her bow, by which time her opponent had already fired again and pinned Sera to the ground with an arrow through her shoulder. Struggling through the pain, Sera pulled back her bowstring and fired at the black-armoured man, but at the same time he fired off an arrow which bisected Sera’s brittle arrow in mid air.

“Weak,” the black-armoured man declared as he sauntered over to her. “Sloppy. Slow. No respect for the art.” He wistfully stroked his beautiful heartwood bow as he slung it once again over his back. “Now tell me: who are you? Why are you here?”

“Sod off,” Sera spat defiantly as her attacker crouched over her. “Now get back or I’ll... or I’ll...”

“You’ll what?” The man said with mock curiosity as he crouched over Sera and drew out a long, thin silver knife from his belt. “Die at me? Miss again? I don’t think so.”

Sera hissed as the man jabbed her with his knife, the point just piercing her skin. She immediately felt groggy. The sharp pain in her shoulder and calf began to die down, replaced with a dull throbbing. She felt the light go out. She desperately tried to think of Mercuria, but all she could see was the black vallaslined face and the long silver hair of the black-armoured man above her.

“Hush now...” the man whispered as Sera began to grow still. “No need to fight it... it’s time to rest.”


End file.
